Casually, she announces that she needs to go to the ladies' room. Just as casually, her girlfriend disappears behind the bar for a moment, and reappears with a wheelchair. The tall, blond woman slips down from the barstool, slides with familiar ease into the chair, excuses herself and wheels off to the washroom. She is smiling to herself because she just knows that the man at the bar is sitting in stunned silence, disbelieving what he has just seen her do. She can almost hear him thinking, "Pretty girls don't use wheelchairs! Women with disabilities aren't sexy! Oh great, we were just talking about going dancing, now what I am supposed to do with her?... But hey, I really like her... Maybe this wheelchair thing isn't such a big deal..."

She laughs, not out of cruelty, but because she has just taught one more person not to make assumptions about her, her abilities or her disability. Since becoming paraplegic in an automobile accident in 1984, challenging people's attitudes has become this woman's life work.

"This woman" is 30-year-old Wendy Murphy. Some people might dismiss her as merely a pretty Pollyanna, reciting worn-out "it-could-be-worse" clichés and downplaying or even denying the effects that her disability has had on her life. Other people see Wendy as a brave heroine who has triumphed over tragedy. But Murphy is an enigma; she steadfastly fits neither of these stereotypes. She is a multidimensional person who refuses to be neatly slotted into, or limited by, society's categories and labels.

Wendy is a business administration graduate, model, actress, broadcaster and, most recently, a Woman of the Year nominee. What she is becoming best known for, however, is her work as community affairs reporter with a Toronto television station, CITY-TV. Her program is called Wendy's Video Diary. Twice a week, in a less than two-minute, on-air segment, Wendy has the opportunity to covertly challenge TV viewers' assumptions about people with disabilities simply by virtue of the fact that she is there, a highly visible TV personality, who happens to use a wheelchair.

The producers at CITY-TV don't try to hide Wendy's disability. She is seen on air in full view, sometimes in motion, sometimes sitting still, sometimes sitting in her wheelchair, sometimes not.

"I am a member of the community," Wendy asserts. "When viewers see me out in the middle of a park or on a wagon at Black Creek Pioneer Village, they realize that they could be here too -- our community belongs to everyone. People still aren't used to seeing physically challenged people out in public either. I believe that the more visible I am, the better! I constantly try to make the point that we are here and we won't let ourselves be excluded from events."

I question Wendy about her use of the phrase "physically challenged." Wendy replies, "But that's what I am. It's a physical mobility limitation, nothing more. There is such tension to use politically correct language that the point of what is being said gets lost! I think it's great that people are at least talking about disability issues. I don't want to be the one to discourage dialogue by insisting on 'proper' language."

A dynamic and very determined individual, Murphy gives the impression that the only barrier between her and her goals is lack of time. There is so much she wants to experience and accomplish.

"I've never been a very patient person," Wendy says, "so if I make up my mind that I want to do something, I just go for it. If I waited for opportunities to come my way, I don't think I would have made it very far."

Wendy's philosophy is straightforward: if she can get her foot in the door on behalf of people with disabilities, then the person behind her can open that door even wider, and others will follow too. She has absolutely no qualms about "putting herself on display," being the "token person with a disability" or "doing whatever it takes" to get her message out: "Society has got to learn that I am a person before I am anything else," Wendy explains. "I'm not so amazing. I don't deserve an award just because I happen to do things from a wheelchair. I want the public to see that, although I might do things a bit differently, I'm still me. I do what I do because I want people to see Wendy first, not the wheelchair. All that I need are opportunities to get that point across."

Wendy deliberately targeted CITY-TV as a potential employer because she saw the station as being "fearless and willing to take risks." She didn't want to be "just another pretty face." Her goal was to secure an on-camera position -- any on-camera position.

She recalls that her interview with Moses Znaimer, President of CITY-TV, was very positive. He treated her as a potential employee, not as a curiosity. Wendy describes Znaimer as a "visionary" who has an inclusive view of the world. There is a tradition in mainstream media of reporting on disability issues inaccurately -- if the issues make the news at all. Similarly, people who have an obvious disability are seldom considered for on-camera roles. By breaking with media convention, Znaimer's staff not only better reflects the community, but also brings a more diverse audience to the station. Some might think Znaimer is a humanitarian -- it's probably more likely that he is a shrewd businessman.

"I built my credibility with [Znaimer] over a long time," Wendy says. "I was very, very persistent and I kept in touch." Almost two years went by from the time she first sent in her press kit to the time she was hired to be a community reporter. Her advice to other women who want to break into the media? "Follow your dreams. Get your education and do the groundwork. Have the lust for the work! Keep on bugging the producers. Persistence reigns in the end."

Wendy is proud of her achievements. When she was 25, she shocked herself and the modelling industry by winning the Prestige Pageant in Toronto over 100 other contestants. It was unconventional, to say the least, for a beauty pageant participant to be using a wheelchair! She hadn't even intended to enter the contest either -- she was recruited on site and "just borrowed a dress" in order to participate. Later that year, she went on to represent Canada in the Miss Venus International (swimwear) competition in Florida, where she won the Contestant's Choice award, as well as a considerable sum of money.

More recently, you may have seen Wendy in her role as the courtroom stenographer on CBC's Street Legal. She has also been featured in a number of commercials and print advertisements. Her broadcaster's teeth were cut as a reporter for YTV's Streetnoise and she worked as CTV's sports reporter for the 1994 Disabled Ski Championships. She has made appearances on the Sally Jessy Raphael Show, the Dini Petty Show and Front Page Challenge.

At times, Wendy seems exuberant about just being alive. She knows that she is lucky to have found her purpose in the world. This contrasts sharply with her keen awareness that her best friend, Grania O'Neill, was not so lucky. Eleven years ago, Wendy and Grania were two typical teenagers. They were sleeping in the back of a friend's van after camping over a long weekend, when the driver lost control of the vehicle on a highway ramp. Three times the van rolled and Wendy, who was not wearing a seat belt, was thrown clear. The force of her impact with the ground compressed Wendy's spine and caused severe damage to two vertebrae at the T9 (rib cage) and L1 (lumbar) levels. In the space of a brief moment, Wendy became paraplegic. Grania was killed in the crash.

Ironically, it was through grieving Grania's death that Wendy found the gift of a deep and profound appreciation for life. The loss of her friend combined with the loss of her mobility were compounded by the fact that the accident had come at a time in their lives when they "were on top of the world."

"Grania's death left a terrible vacant spot in my life. The anguish I felt was huge. I was inconsolable." But Wendy believes "that everything happens for a reason... I know that fate and destiny play a strong role in my life. Think about it -- my professional success is partly based on what was initially a huge setback in my life."

After the accident, the reality of her situation hit as soon as the painkilling drugs started to wear off, during her first two weeks at Toronto Western Hospital. "I felt like I was waking up in a nightmare, only I felt kind of separated from it, and I kept trying to figure out, Where do I fit in with this?'"

Almost a month after the accident, family and friends gathered at the hospital to celebrate Wendy's 19th birthday. Her first legal beer was prescribed by a doctor. "It was great that so many people were there for me," Wendy recalls, "but I was just lying there, incredibly out of it and wanting to die." She felt helpless, vulnerable and out of control. "My whole life was out of order and I was incredibly emotional all the time. My head was still in the world of the walking. I really believed that I could just 'get over' this -- I was so determined to walk again."

Although Wendy eventually regained some sensation in her legs, she is not able to weightbear for more than a couple minutes. She has pain in one foot and extreme spasticity in her legs.

After two months at Western, Wendy was transferred to Toronto's Lyndhurst Rehabilitation Centre for physical recovery and therapy. She wasn't able to move home right away. Her family had moved into a new house and renovations were to be done to accommodate her.

Although her friends and family were incredibly supportive, Wendy had been finding it immeasurably difficult to adapt to the wheelchair. But Lyndhurst was a whole new world of possibilities for Wendy. "Everything was modified for people who used wheelchairs," Wendy recalls. "I could get around relatively easily, use the washroom, and access the facilities there. That was great for my self-esteem. I started to feel like I could do things for myself again."

The drawback though, was that Lyndhurst was a "cushioned" place set up to accommodate people with disabilities. "When I went home on the weekends, it was like culture shock because, all of a sudden, I had to adjust the way I did things in order to get around.

"That's when I realized that the world wasn't going to do any favours for me. I would have to get out there and make things happen myself. Life kind of opened up for me then and I started to see huge possibilities."

With assistance from a team of health care professionals whom Wendy has nothing but praise for, she started to rebuild her shattered self-esteem, re-evaluate her world views and come to terms, practically and emotionally, with her disability. For Wendy, acceptance meant "not looking back at what might have been. I had to move on and stop comparing myself to the way I was."

At the time of the accident, Wendy had been working in the accounting department of Domtar Construction. After the accident, Domtar offered her old job back, but she felt she couldn't return. Her perspectives on life and her priorities were forever changed. Wendy says, "I felt like I would never be truly accepted there because people would only remember the old Wendy and compare me to her. The other problem was that the office wouldn't have been accessible for me. So, I wondered what I could do in terms of career now."

According to employment statistics, Wendy was doubly disadvantaged. Being female and having a disability made her prospects, on paper, pretty dismal.

Wendy, however, has achieved financial independence. She returned to school and earned a Business Administration Certificate at Sheridan College. She then went to Ryerson and took courses in broadcasting and journalism. With much credit to her agent, Susan Charness Talent, Wendy's multi-dimensional career is blossoming as opportunities for exposure in print, radio and television media continue to surface. Increased exposure has led to further employment possibilities and, at this stage in her career, Wendy feels there are a lot of doors opening up for her.

Wendy's ability to support herself means a great deal to her. She likes to have choices about how and where she lives, what she does with her time and who she spends that time with. Wendy has built herself a lifestyle that, in addition to "going out a lot," includes a tastefully furnished rented condo in Brampton, Ontario, frequent travel, a Le Baron convertible and "tons of great friends."

Access, of course, is an ongoing issue; however, it is not the issue for Wendy. The city she lives in, being new, was built with a high degree of accessibility. Shopping, parking and banking are not a problem. Her condo has had no special design features installed to accommodate her wheelchair. At her workplace, Wendy faces few physical barriers. When CITY-TV moved into its Queen Street location, the building was renovated with access in mind.

Before Wendy goes out on a shoot, she checks with her contact what kind of physical difficulties she might encounter. "I'm direct about my needs," Wendy says. "I let them know up front that I use a wheelchair."

Perhaps the most formidable barrier that Wendy faces in her life is that of attitude. "Most people make assumptions about what I can and cannot do. Maybe they think that because I use a wheelchair, my life must not be any fun and I couldn't possibly have a sense of humour... I get a real kick out of educating people in a non-confrontational way whenever possible."

As for future projects, Wendy's thinking of writing a book and she's been approached about a movie on her life. But what she really wants to do is host her own Canadian talk show. "I want to be the next Baba Wawa," she laughs. With Wendy's talent and determination, her dream could easily become a reality.

The Wendy Murphy I met became an image maker first by chance and then by choice. She is a frequent and enthusiastic spokesperson who wants people to understand what it's like to have a disability.

She does not deny that she has bad days. "Those are times when I call friend after friend and cry and scream and shout and get all the negative stuff out of me. Then I can go on again." But Wendy's approach is to focus on the positive.

Murphy's law dictates that "Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong." Wendy Murphy's law is, "Whatever can go wrong, can be set right."

-- Kim Miller

From Abilities magazine, Issue 25